Into The West
by Amirexia
Summary: A collection of non-canon deaths of characters of Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit. Whump included! T for blood/violence. Bring kleenex.
1. I See Ships

It shouldn't have happened that way. It was never meant to happen that way. And yet it did, so horrifyingly did.

The battle was raging, relentless, as the rain pounded on the thousands of armored bodies. The Uruk Hai were pouring over the walls, but the elves were holding their own; Legolas was slicing through them with his knives and Haldir was atop one of the towers, picking them off with his bow. A particularly large orc caught Haldir's eye and he nocked an arrow, taking careful aim.

Something inside his brain said not to release that arrow. But he did. And that's when things went so terribly wrong.

The targeted orc fell to the side, revealing Legolas, brandishing his knives. The elf prince's name was a second off Haldir's lips when his arrow bored into Legolas' chest. The battle seemed to go still as the elves' eyes met. Legolas seemed confused, and he sunk to his knees as a crimson stain began to spread along his tunic. Haldir's panicked eyes turned to Aragorn.

Aragorn did not see all of what happened. Only the elf prince falling, with an arrow protruding from his chest. "Legolas!" he yelled. Gimli was already there, fending off a pack of orcs. As Legolas fell backwards, Aragorn caught him. Instantly blood stained his fingers.

Legolas' vision swam. Pain.. so much pain.. and blood. That was something he was not used to, blood. Aragorn's face appeared above him, and the elf gazed at him as if doing so would keep him alive.

"A-Aragorn, I –"

"Shh, mellon nin," Aragorn said reassuringly. "Gimli! Help me!" The dwarf turned and his eyes widened. "No," he murmured. He didn't really have time to say anything else as the two moved Legolas into the Hold and laid him on the floor.

Legolas' chest heaved up and down spasmodically. Flecks of blood spotted his pale lips. Gimli knelt and blinked rapidly. "Com'n, lad," he said. "It's ju't a wee arrah.."

Silence.

"Right, lad?" Gimli's voice wavered.

Legolas' wide eyes met Gimli's, and he touch the dwarf's helmet with a shaking hand. As he smiled a bold crimson line made its way from his mouth to his jawline. A tear made its way from Gimli's eye and tracked into his beard. Aragorn caught Legolas' hand as it fell and gathered him into his arms. The elf tried to grip it back, but his hold was loose. His eyes wandered.

"I- I see the horizon," he murmured. "I see... ships..." Aragorn's eyebrows creased.

Haldir burst in and immediately dropped to his knees. "My lord," he said, voice cracking. "M-my lord, I am sorry, I –" He was interrupted by Legolas gasping and coughing up blood, splattering it on Aragorn's shoulder. Haldir started forward but the blade of Gimli's axe stopped him.

"You did this?" Aragorn said in a deadly calm voice. A tear slipped down Haldir's face. "My lord, please," he whispered, his jaw trembling. "I did not mean to."

"Ada?" Legolas said, his tone arching up, almost innocent. His eyes had a far away look to them. "Ada, wait, I – I'm coming," he murmured. His hand went limp.

There was a silence in the room. Gimli collapsed, rocking back and forth and sobbing quietly.

The Elf Prince of Mirkwood was dead.


	2. I Will Protect You

A few thousand years ago / the Forest of Lothlorien

"My lord, for the last time, stay inside!"

Legolas glared up at Haldir. The young elf prince had been trying to get into the battle for twenty minutes now; nothing had been able to stop him but Haldir himself. The Rivendell elves were fighting, as well as Thranduil.

"I want to fight with my Ada," growled the tiny Legolas.

"You are not going into that battle, so help me, I will lock you in the dungeon if I have to," Haldir said with just as much venom. Legolas crossed his arms.

A horn sounded. Haldir whirled around, his hand on his sword. Dirt was smudged on his face and his hair was tangled. His eyes widened and he turned back to Legolas. "You stay here, you hear me? Lindir! Thank Valar, you're just in time."

Lindir looked at Haldir with something of the nervous panic often seen by Elrond, who brushed past the three just at that moment. All the elves had merged to fight this front; the orcs were relentless. His soldiers marched by. "Lindir, look after Legolas," Haldir said firmly. "Don't let him out into the battle, whatever you do." With that, he was gone.

Legolas looked at Lindir. Lindir looked at Legolas.

"Your hair is dark," Legolas said. Lindir stiffened.

"Well, yes, I –"

Just that second distraction was enough. Legolas dashed out the door and was instantly met by chaos. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, and the clashing of metal rang in his ears. For a second he almost regretted coming out. Then he remembered why he had come.

"Ada," he yelled loudly. "Ada!" He picked his way through the battle, dodging swords and arrows. And orc approached him and he ran between its legs as he caught sight of Thranduil in the heat of the battle. The orc snatched his foot and lifted him into the air. He screamed.

Thranduil spun, hearing his son's voice. Panic filled his eyes. "Legolas!" he yelled, slashing an orc down and sprinting towards Legolas. At the same time Haldir heard the elf prince's scream and rolled his eyes. "You can't even trust those Rivendell elves with a simple task," he huffed, then ran in Legolas' direction.

Thranduil threw his momentum into his arm, hacking the orc's arm clean off. It and Legolas fell to the ground. The orc snarled, seemingly unfazed, and whirled on Thranduil, catching him in the head with the blunt side of his reave. The elven king stumbled backwards and blood trickled down the side of his face. He turned back to the orc with a maddened light in his eyes.

Haldir picked a now-grimy Legolas up by his shoulders and put his body between the fight and Legolas, ushering him away. "Let go, Haldir," Legolas whined. "Haldir, let _go!"_ He elbowed the elf in the stomach and spun away, then stopped dead, mouth agape.

Thranduil's eyes met Legolas', then traveled down to his stomach, where the orc's blade was embedded. The orc sneered and yanked the blade out. Thranduil fell to the ground, shocked, as blood began to pool.

"ADA!" Legolas screamed and dashed to his father's side. Haldir looked on, stunned, as Legolas dropped next to him.

"L-Legolas," Thranduil murmured, smiling weakly. He reached a hand up to brush Legolas' cheek. "My son, I – I never... told you how.. proud I was.. I.. I.."

His eyes glazed over, and his hand fell to the ground. Legolas' eyes brimmed with tears. He gave a choking sob.

"Ada," he said. "Ada please.." His tears dripped onto Thranduil's tunic. "Ada, don't go! Ada!" He was almost screaming by now, rocking back and forth, clutching his father's hand and pushing back the hair from Thranduil's face with his tiny hand.

Haldir laid a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Don't touch me!" Legolas sobbed.

"We have to go," Haldir said gently. Legolas looked up at the other elf's tear-streaked face and allowed himself to be pulled away. Although Haldir looked like he was trying to hold himself together, Legolas saw right through it. He clutched Haldir's leg, and Haldir knelt to wrap the elfling in his arms.

"I'll protect you," he said, his voice trembling. "Don't worry. Shh." He picked Legolas up and carried him to the palace as the battle continued to rage. As Legolas continued to whimper with tears, Haldir began to sing a Lorien lullaby, one the young elf wasn't familiar with. He wasn't sure what it meant, but the soothing sound of Haldir's voice calmed his spasming sobs.

"I will protect you," he whispered again. And he meant it.


	3. Together

_/After the Battle for Pelennor Fields\\_

Wind whipped across the battlefield. Bodies were strewn, motionless, along the ground. Pippin wandered through the deathly quiet field, hoping to all hopes to see a familiar face, alive. One in particular.

"Merry!" he called. "Merry!" Only the wind answered his frantic calls. He turned, and after a second, a small, furry foot caught his eye. His hopes rose, then faltered; he could never forgive himself if his friend was dead and he hadn't been there.

He dashed towards what he hoped was Merry – the body of an orc was blocking his view. He shoved the orc's body aside with a grunt, revealing his friend, limp and curled up. He placed a hand on Merry's side, and it moved up and down ever so slightly. "Merry," Pippin said, turning his friend over and supporting him on his knee. The other hobbit's eyes opened a crack, but he didn't seem to recognize Pippin.

"Merry, it's me," Pippin said again. "It's Pippin." His voice cracked a little. Merry's eyes lit up a little, and he stretched his bloodied mouth into a smile.

"I knew you'd find me," he said in the barest of whispers. Pippin nodded a little, pressing back tears of relief.

"Are you going to leave me?" Merry asked, slowly. Pippin's gloved hand brushed some of the matted hair away from Merry's face and shook his head.

"No, Merry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm going to look after you."

Pippin stood, and catching sight of an unused cloak, grabbed it and laid it on Merry. The winds were cold, after all. While his back was turned, the orc that had been on top of Merry stirred. His fingers curled around his knife. He stood jerkily, sneering down on the two hobbits. Merry's eyes widened.

"Pippin!" he cried; a second too late.

A sickly shearing sound reached Merry's ears, and Pippin's back arched. The tip of the knife protruded from his stomach. Their eyes met, and Pippin collapsed next to Merry. A red stain began to grow around the rip in Pippin's armor, and he gasped for air.

Merry gathered his strength, and fueled by rage, staggered to his feet. He clutched his sword tightly, and the orc yowled, lunging at Merry. As the Orc's blade ripped through Merry's chest, his own sword impaled the orc. It squealed and fell to the ground, moving no more. Merry's breaths came haggard in his throat as warm blood began to flow through his tunic. He stumbled and fell to his knees, then to his side, next to the deathly-still Pippin.

"Pip," he murmured, wrapping his cold fingers around the other hobbit's hand. Pippin's eyes flicked to Merry and gripped his hand loosely.

"M-Merry," Pippin said. "I... I feel... cold.."

"It's alright, Pip," Merry said. "I feel it too."

They shared a small moment of silence. Merry pressed Pippin's hand to his forehead.

"D'you think Frodo'll make it?" Pippin whispered. Merry looked up.

"I don't know, Pip," he said. "I don't know."

Pippin coughed, and blood spilled out the side of his mouth. Merry's eyes had taken on a glassy appearance, and his tunic was soaked in blood.

"Together?" Pippin rasped.

"Together."


	4. I Forgive You

It was getting hotter.

Sweat beaded on Frodo's forehead under his orcish armor, and his blue eyes were glassy. The gaping wound around his neck trickled sticky blood down his back, and his breaths came in shallow, gasping heaves. His wound was reopening, but he didn't mention it to Sam – the poor hobbit looked as if he was having enough trouble on his own. His feet were cut to shreds and he didn't complain, and he was breathing heavily. A little warmth grew in Frodo's heart, but the power of the Ring almost immediately squelched it.

Frodo stopped on a ridge and waited for Sam to catch up. Ahead was the entirety of Mordor. The Eye of Sauron could be seen in the distance, and just the sight of it made the Ring grow heavier around Frodo's neck. He turned to Sam, who looked at him with hope, as always. "We're close, Mr. Frodo," he said, mustering all the energy he could into his voice. "Very close. Just a few miles more. You can make it."

Frodo gave Sam an appreciative smile, and began to move forward. One foot at a time. If anything, for Sam.

Suddenly, searing heat ripped through his chest. Frodo gave a cry of pain and fell backwards against the hard rock. He hardly heard Sam's frantic cry or felt the other hobbit jerk his hand away from Frodo's burning skin. A voice in his head whispered in a crescendo something he didn't understand, but he felt his sentient thought recede to the back of his mind, and some dark, evil thing take presence in the front. He watched, horrified.

Sam hovered above the apparently unconscious Frodo, tears threatening, and pulled off their helmets. "Not now, Frodo!" he murmured, trying to touch the sizzling skin of the pale hobbit. Suddenly Frodo's eyes snapped open, no longer sky blue but fiery red, almost twin images of Sauron's eye. He grabbed Sam's wrist, and as the hobbit yelped, pulled himself up by it, and stalked off towards the eye.

"What're you doin'?!" Sam yelled. "'E'll _see_ you!" Frodo didn't stop.

"Mr. Frodo! _Frodo!" _Sam caught up to Frodo and grabbed his arm. Frodo whipped around, catching Sam's jaw with his hand, and sending the other hobbit stumbling backwards.

"Don't touch me," Frodo growled in a voice that was not his. Sam's face contorted, and he started forward and reached for Frodo's arm. "Mr. Frodo," he said. "Please, I –"

"I said _don't touch me_!" Frodo screamed, whipping Sting out of its sheath and plunging it into Sam's abdomen. There was a moment of stunned silence, and Sam looked down at his stomach. Frodo's eyes widened, and slowly faded to their normal blue color. He looked at Sam, horrified, and let go of the hilt. Sam collapsed, a crimson stain spreading on his shirt and pooling on the hard rocks as he gasped for air. A tear rolled down Sam's cheek, and Frodo gave small choking sound, dropping next to Sam.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Sam's bloodied fingers slowly curled around Frodo's hand, and he gazed intently at the ringbearer.

"I – I forgive you, Mr. Frodo," he murmured. A sob rose in Frodo's throat, and he buried his head in Sam's shoulder.

"Don't go," he said. "Please, Sam. Don't go. I can't – I can't do this without you." His fingers clenched loosely in his companion's hair, but Sam was fading. His breaths hitched in his throat, and as Frodo held him, his eyes slipped closed, and his hold on Frodo's hand slipped.


	5. I Will Follow You

"Gimli, what _are_ you doing?"

The dwarf grumbled something incoherent and continued to walk forward, haltingly. Legolas shook his head at his friend and trotted after the dwarf. As he caught up with Gimli, he casually stuck his thumbs through his quiver harness and peered down at the dwarf, a smile tugging at his lips. Gimli, however, took puffing breaths and looked straight ahead, leaning heavily on his axe. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"You're acting very odd," Legolas teased. Gimli hmphed and took an extra large step.

"Go away, elf," he growled. Legolas' brow furrowed and he put himself in the dwarf's path, kneeling down in front of him with a bit of a smile. A smile cut decorated his right brow, and there was a large bruise growing on his jaw, but it didn't affect his joyful stature. The skirmish with the orcs caused little casualties, and the elf was in high spirits.

Gimli's glassy eyes met Legolas', and with a grunt, he fell to his knees. Alarm flashed on Legolas' face and he caught the dwarf by the arm, helping him to lie flat on the moist grass. He slipped the helmet off Gimli's head, revealing a large chunk of his beard missing, and blood staining his neck. Legolas' lips parted a little, and he pressed his hand to the wound. It wasn't bleeding any more.

"Come on, Gimli," he laughed, a nervous undertone staining his voice. "It's just a small cut."

"Poison, lad." A smile fluttered along Gimli's lips, and he tapped the ground next to him, motioning for Legolas to lie down. Realization dawned in Legolas' eyes and slowly, he lowered himself to the grass next to Gimli. The wind toyed gently with their hair, and without realizing it, Legolas' chest rose and fell in pace with the laborious breathing of Gimli. The clouds passed by them, and Gimli spoke in a strained voice, "I never quite valued the color of the sky this time of day."

Legolas' face contorted with emotion, and he touched Gimli's cold hand with a gentle finger. "Stay alive," he whispered. "Stay alive, for me?"

Gimli gripped Legolas' hand lightly and gave a small, pained chuckle. "I cannot, lad.. my.. my time has come."

Legolas turned his head to meet his friend's eyes. "I would follow you, if you wished it." He drew a small dagger from his belt and poised it by his neck. Gimli's eyes widened and he lunged, snatching the knife away.

"No, Legolas. I could never ask that of you, I –" He was interrupted by a fit of coughing, and a little bit of dark red blood stained the grass. He turned over heavily and stared at the sky once more. "We will meet again," he murmured.

They lay there in silence for a small eternity. "Say something," Legolas whispered, his eyes tightly shut, knowing the dwarf wouldn't respond. He rolled over and got to his knees, placing a hand on the dwarf's still chest, and closing Gimli's blank eyes gently.

He leaned forward and placed his lips on Gimli's forehead softly, then sat back on his heels, tear stains tracking down his face.

"Your life is free, mellon naug," he murmured, still clutching Gimli's rough hand. "And I will follow."


	6. (unofficial chapter lol drabble things)

((haha wtf is this stuff idek this isn't a chapter it's like stuff I wrote randomly))

* * *

He'd seen it before. All of it. The race difference meant nothing; the joyful, innocent faces still smiled at him, mocking his inability to protect them.

From the day the Fellowship had left Rivendell, Gandalf had a pit of worry seething in his stomach for Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. They were young, naive hobbits – reckless and bold, rushing into battle without thinking. And yet, they still carried a fear of all new warriors. It was in their eyes. Whenever Pippin looked to Gandalf, the old wizard saw fear, uncontrolled fear, a panic that the hobbit couldn't hide, no matter how hard he tried. Merry, he was bold, brave, but he longed for his homeland. Every step he took, a weariness grew in his eyes, a longing for company. Once the little hobbit fell against him, pressing his small body against the wizard as they walked, murmuring, "Gandalf, it is so lonely. So lonely out here. How do they survive?"

They were there together; as Frodo had Sam, Merry had Pippin. Frodo had a purpose, and so did Sam, but Pippin and Merry often lagged to the back of the group and conversed in low tones. Gandalf would catch snippets of their conversation, and every second he wished he hadn't put them to this cruel fate, this horrible destiny he'd sentenced them to. Because last time, he hadn't kept an eye on the troublemakers, the young ones, the ones that seemed to be fine. And it was his fault they were dead.

Pippin was scared, understandably so, as Kili had been. He was not prepared for the world beyond his small borders, and it frightened him. He put up a bold front, though; however defenseless he was, he had only let the old wizard see his terror on occasion. Merry was taller, more confident, wiser, though still bold and young. He needed Pippin, and would have given his life for the hobbit, as Fili had done for his brother in arms.

And Gandalf was grieved, because they were so alike, doomed to the same fate. And he could do nothing to stop it.

Pippin had looked at Gandalf and Kili's face flashed before the old wizard's eyes. His lips had pressed together in something that resembled a pained smile. The image of their bloody, mangled corpses was burnt into his mind with scars deeper than dragon fire. Fili's arms, flung protectively over Kili's riddled chest, face down, with tear stains tracking into his beard and blood forming an open grave around the two. At the beginning they trust Gandalf, trusted him to bring them back alive, to accomplish the mission they set out to do.

Halfway through their journey, Merry had come to Gandalf, and had revealed that he was worried for Pippin. A little further prodding uncovered that Mery was fear-struck that Pippin would leave him, one way or another, to fight alone. When Merry asked why Gandalf was almost in tears, he simply replied,

"I knew someone like you, a long time ago."

* * *

"Tauriel, that is _NO_. Don't do that!"

A giggle echoed down the halls of Mirkwood and Galion groaned. A second later a rip appeared in the hem of his robes and snaked its way upward. Galion cursed softly and gathered the small thread into his hands, following it to the source of giggling. A tiny, red-haired elf sat curled up under the table by the stables, a small, blunt knife in her small fingers.

"Look at what you have done!" Galion exclaimed, his tone bordering on angry. He spread the cut in his robes for Tauriel to see, and she looked up at him, a little fear in her eyes. Her too-large ears reddened and she batted her long eyelashes.

Galion's face broke and he smiled, kneeling. "Give me the knife, little one," he said, extending his hand. Tauriel smiled widely and shook her head. "Nope! It's mine! Legolas gave it to me!" Galion frowned.

"Legolas has knives?"

Tauriel nodded and stood, grabbing Galion's finger. She toddled off.

"I'll show you, he has a whole room of dem." Her words slurred a little as Galion allowed himself to be led behind the tiny elfling to Legolas' quarters. She pushed open the door before Galion could tell her to knock, and almost instantly she let go of Galion's finger and galloped inside, hopping on the disheveled bed, where a small Legolas was perched, inspecting something. He brightened at Tauriel, but instantly went back to staring intently at the object on his bed. Tauriel did too. "Ooh," she murmured, reaching out to touch it.

Galion approached to see what it was they were looking at, then lurched backwards, eyes wide.

"Legolas, why do you have a snake on your bed?!"

Legolas looked up. "I found her in the hallway."

"Her?"

Legolas' cheeks went red. "Yeah. I named her - I named her Tauriel." He cast a sidelong glance at the snake's namesake.

Galion huffed loudly. "Well, she is dangerous, and I'm going to take her outside." Instantly two whines emerged from the elfings and Galion rolled his eyes, grabbing the wash bowl and dumping it out. He slapped it over the snake and slid some parchment under it, sweeping out into the hall. Legolas and Tauriel scrambled to catch up, each taking a side of Galion's ripped robes. "But Uncle," Legolas moaned. "I like Tauriel! The snake I mean," he added quickly. Tauriel smiled toothlessly at Legolas, who blushed.

"Master Legolas, it is my duty to keep your safe, and snakes are not safe," Galion said firmly, making his way to the trash.

"NO!" Tauriel screeched. "You can't throw her away! You have to let her go in the wild!" Her face contorted into an indignant pout. She crossed her arms. Legolas mimicked her.

Galion sighed loudly. "Fine," he said. "Can't ever resist that face," he muttered, turning on his heel and marching out into the woods. He flung the snake away, then ushered the elflings back inside.

"Will you tell us a story..?" Tauriel asked. Legolas brightened.

"Yes! Ada's adventures, tell us, tell us!"

"Tell us, Galion!"

Galion groaned.

* * *

((early on in aragorn's years, when he was a member of the royal guard in rivendell. probably about 17-21 here, injured after a few stray orcs stumbled upon his patrol.))

Breathe in. Breath out. Step. Repeat. One foot at a time. No fear, no pain, just determination. Forward. Forward. Have to go forward. Have to get to her. Have to get to her.

Gravity, the harsh pull, too soon, too soon. Have to keep going. For her. Can't give up. Couldn't bear to see the shame in her eyes. Breathe in, no, can't. Blood. Cough it up, breathe in. Sweat in my eyes. Pain. Pain keeps me going. My pain, all mine, can't share it, no one else should feel it. It's mine. It's mine. She's mine.

Back on my feet again. People, elves rushing towards me. None of them are her.

"Soldier, lie down!" Can't. Won't. Have to get to her.

"You are badly hurt, please, lie down." Doesn't matter. Won't rest until I see her.

Steps are difficult. Can't go up. Have to go up. One at a time, one at a time. Halfway there my knees gives out. The concrete against the bone is jarring, harsh. I support myself with a hand. Blood on the steps, blood, my blood, spilled for her, to keep her safe. Keep going, keep going.

My body won't obey. I am broken, broken, I have failed. A cry escapes my lips; echoing foot steps surround me.

"Aragorn." A voice, liquid starlight, energy fused into my bones. Stand, stand slowly, one more step. She is there, she is safe. Relief weakens my joints and I topple. Her soft arms encircle me, no, that is supposed to be my job, I am supposed to protect her. Her eyes meet mine, what is this I feel? Love? I do not know, but I have failed, she could have died and it would have been my fault. I am just like my grandfather, a failure.

"Aragorn," the one who walks in starlight whispers. "It is alright to be cared for sometimes." A smiled danced across her lips.

"You are only human."


End file.
